Hello 2025

poems, shopping lists, taking it easy and being good

A poem to start the year right.

Over Christmas, we had a conversation about whether humans are essentially good or bad. (We can get a bit intense over a meal.) This poem sums up my feelings about it.

eschatology by Eve L. Ewing

i’m confident that the absolute dregs of possibility for this society,
the sugary coffee mound at the bottom of this cup,
our last best hope that when our little bit of assigned plasma implodes
it won’t go down as a green mark in the cosmic ledger,
lies in the moment when you say hello to a bus driver
and they say it back—

when someone holds the door open for you
and you do a little jog to meet them where they are—

walking my dog, i used to see this older man
and whenever I said good morning,
he replied ‘GREAT morning’—

in fact, all the creative ways our people greet each other
may be the icing on this flaming trash cake hurtling through the ether.

when the clerk says how are you
and i say ‘i’m blessed and highly favored’

i mean my toes have met sand, and wiggled in it, a lot.
i mean i have laughed until i choked and a friend slapped my back.
i mean my niece wrote me a note: ‘you are so smart + intellajet’

i mean when we do go careening into the sun,

i’ll miss crossing guards ushering the grown folks too, like ducklings
and the lifeguards at the community pool and
men who yelled out the window that they’d fix the dent in my car,
right now! it’d just take a second—

and actually everyone who tried to keep me alive, keep me afloat,
and if not unblemished, suitably repaired.

but I won’t feel too sad about it,
becoming a star

Copyright © 2024 by Eve L. Ewing. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on February 6, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.

It is in the little things. The gentle smile, the hello to a stranger, the thank you, the wishing someone a happy new year. The knowing nod, the glee of meeting a sweet pup, the noticing if someone’s little tot is adorable. It is the keeping us all afloat and alive, the creating of a circle of love around those we know and those we don’t. It is assuming the best in people and suspending our judgment. It is reuniting with old friends, checking in, breaking bread, playing a game, and laughing till it hurts. It is making tea for someone, writing a kind note, saying the right thing, listening well, saying nothing at all-just being there. It is finding the perfect gift, it is taking care of yourself, it is putting yourself second, it is thinking about what would be best for the greatest number. It is sharing your enthusiasm over cynicism, it is trying a new recipe, it is going for a long walk, it is noticing that funny-shaped leaf, it is leaning in and towards, it is breathing fresh air. It is more gratitude and less grumbling, it is more coulds and less shoulds. It is less bad news and more filters. It is making things more than consuming things. It is being kind.

I see my daughters every six months. Only. And then we become a family of 4 again, back together. There is no gift greater than knowing my girls want to be with us. Choosing to all come together to make memories. This sustains me when we are apart.

For the past few years, I did a word of the year. The first time I chose the word less, and I wrote about it here. It resonated with a lot of people. The next word I forgot.

For 2024, I had two: Accept/Invent

This year I want to choose 3 sentences. Live fully even if it hurts. Go towards people who make you feel warm. Trust it will be good.

I am not interested in being on the ‘improve always train’, and I think this is an important tenant to live by as a coach. We don’t always have to be striving; we can just be, as long as the ‘just be’ is a way you want to live. I’d rather get on the sleeper train, look at the view, take it all in, go to bed gently rocking.

Here is a poem I wrote in France, it started as a shopping list.

Panettone, cheese that walks across the board, quince, and clementines from Corsica. Capers and lemons, chocolate too. Olives of course.

Patience and forgiveness

Joy and cream

Willingness to play a game

Red wine from the vineyard, just over there

A warm scarf to wrap

Ribbons and tape and pretty paper

Mont d’or which is liquid cheese gold for dipping potatoes

Oysters for some

Champagne for all

Sparkles

Sunshine indoors please

Tables strewn with lunchtime talks

Tiny notes of love

Winter sun slanting sharp across ancient walls

A child’s laugh heard in the distance

Small serious dogs wearing coats

Cobbled streets that echo and old fountains with beards of moss

Wine at lunch with naps that follow

in rooms with gentle light that falls

Soft soft across a loved one’s cheek

An after lunch coffee that comes with a treat

And the mistral that blows away the cobwebs of the year

The nub of this year with all its souvenirs that leaks into fresh new days where hope awaits

One final photo from France. I am so grateful I was able to go back to my favourite place.

Turning a calendar’s page is arbitrary and random, but it is a measure of the shifting sands of time. Wishing you all a happy, healthy 2025. May it be a year that brings beauty, gentleness and light.

Thank you for being here, Sam x